


how contracts are determined

by freckledshoulderblades



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Body Horror, a collection of loose thoughts, as opposed to seperate/slightly connected drabbles, but there is some element of it, but! validation serves to give me purpose in writing, i'll post my outline?? maybe, if y'all like this shit, it definitely needs a little work before it reaches that point, not too in depth, or i'll just rework this and make it more...story like, this is what happens when i try to clean out my wip folder, this isn't a concrete story yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledshoulderblades/pseuds/freckledshoulderblades
Summary: there aren't many on the Planet that summon anymore - they tend to latch onto you and bend your skin to a form that befits them. you maintain your humanity as much as one can when fire laces up your arms, when your eyes turn black and horns sprout from your head, when you leave behind footfalls tinged in frost.





	how contracts are determined

**Author's Note:**

> quick disclaimer: this has been rotting in my wip folder for the better part of a year. so this isn't so much a complete story as it is a collection of ideas and thoughts about final fantasy and summons lmao

VINCENT, THE FISHER KING

 

Ghosts of kings long dead rise from the piles of ash scattered across the room and Vincent nearly laughs at the thought that he may die here. An elderly man with a crown heavy on his brow steps forth, frowning, and draws his sword.

"You have disturbed us." It isn't a question so much as it is a challenge, and Vincent takes a deep breath before squaring his slim shoulders and reloading Peacemaker.

The six or so specters that form a circle around Vincent draw their weapons as well, the metallic schlick of steel against steel ringing through the air. Vincent, satisfied with the state of his gun, aims at the King and pulls the trigger.

He figures that's answer enough.

There's a brief moment of silence as the King reaches upwards to his chest with a look of shock, confused when he pulls away with something thick and dark coating his fingertips. Vincent can see a nearby Knight's hands grip their sword tighter, a snarl ripping across their face.

"My liege," they snap out, and leap at Vincent.

He sidesteps the incoming attack gracefully and aims at the Knight's head. The shot echoes in the cavern and the Knight falls at his Lord's feet.

Back a mere foot from the cavern wall, Vincent stares down the two Knights making their approach cautiously.

One of them lunges forward with a pole arm, faster than he can anticipate, and catches him in the ribs. The blade sinks in without resistance and Vincent feels his blood bubbling beneath his skin, feels the pull of Galian Beast. The remaining Knight darts through Vincent's broken defense with twin daggers - stopping at the last moment as Vincent lodges a bullet in their chest. The Knight with the pole arm pushes it further into his side until it catches just enough for them to pull Vincent forward violently, separating blade from skin with a kick to his stomach.

He staggers, raises Peacemaker, and shoots off a few rounds at the Knight. They fall unceremoniously to the ground, and Vincent clutches at his stomach to attempt to staunch the blood flowing from his wound.

A bolt catches him in the shoulder and he doesn't have enough time to respond in kind when a greataxe is lodged into the stonework scant inches from his head. A Knight growls as they struggle to remove the spectral axe, before abandoning the endeavor in favor of attempting to punch Vincent. He ducks out of the way just in time to see a gloved fist slam into stone, cracking the wall.

Vincent rolls forward, breath labored, and fires off a potshot at the Knight behind him. It connects and they crumple to the ground with a groan.

Another bolt whizzes past his ear and he stands, intending to reload as quickly as possible, when a trident spears him from behind.

Three prongs jut out from his chest and Vincent coughs up a liberal amount of blood that spatters to the ground. The Knight lifts him, his wounds tearing open further as the pressure on them increases, and throws him against the opposite wall with a grunt.

He feels his heartbeat increase as blood pours from his wounds, and Galian Beast thunders to the forefront of his mind.

 

When he comes to, Vincent's wounds are healed and the cavern is empty save for the ghostly apparition of the King and the materia on the pedestal.

The King watches him silently, raising a hand when Vincent moves to draw his gun.

"You've a beast within you." the King remarks.

Vincent laughs. "I do at that. Four, to be precise."

The King gives him a wry smile. "You've a difficult task as well."

He nods in return. "I find myself in that position, yes."

"I would lend you my strength in the coming battle." the King says, and Vincent sees his eyes flare a bright purple. "I would lend you my strength to protect what land you hold, what people you hold dearest."

"Become a King in my stead and what power I have is yours to take." he thunders, and Vincent stands to take the materia from the pedestal.

He bows in deference, materia in his metal hand, and murmurs, "I will do as you ask."

  
/* ******************************************************************************************************************************************* */

AERITH, THE CHOSEN FLAME

 

In the heat of battle, Tifa fallen to her right and Cloud struggling to her left, Aerith pulls out the flint she keeps in the satchel on her hip. She strikes it, once, twice, murmuring low under her breath with the sort of insistence she only uses when summoning.

A flame sparks at her fingertips and the grass below her bursts into fire.

Ifrit gives her no warning - the ground shudders and splits as he erupts forth scant feet from where she stands. He glances over his shoulder at her dismissively and incinerates their foe in seconds.

Flesh burns just as well as tinder.

 

Cid notices first, how her chestnut hair glows like fire in the sunlight, how her eyes turn into embers against the cool of the night, how when she rubs her dry hands together they spark like flint.

Aerith thinks it's almost amusing the way he skirts around asking the question that sticks in his mouth - it's entirely unlike him.

He corners her one day in Junon, when they're settling in for the night. Aerith can see the question in the set of his shoulders and she smiles warmly at him.

"Yes, Cid." she says, and he sits on the bed opposite hers. He doesn't respond, choosing instead to shuck off his gloves and roll up the sleeves of his jacket. His fingers twitch and she snaps her fingers to light a fire as he snags a half-finished cigarette from his coat pocket.

Cid mumbles something that sounds like thanks when he lights up, taking a few drags and letting her take in the sight that is his arms.

They're laced with small, inconsequential cuts that reach up far past the crook of his elbow but she thinks _that's not the important part_ not with what looks like lightning crackling against his scarred skin, the downy hair of his arm sticking straight out.

"Ah." she says, and he looks at her through a cloud of smoke, his expression pained.

Aerith takes his hands in hers and squeezes. "Have you talked to them?" she asks, and he nods.

"I talked to 'em. Odin. Gave me a choice." Cid breathes in deep, exhaling smoke. "A contract, more like."

She thinks back to her own contract, her own decision. "And you accepted."

He shrugs noncommittally. "We were in a shitshow of a fight. Not much choice."

She tilts her head towards him and releases his hands. "There's always a choice, Cid."

Cid's eyes catch hers and he flinches when he sees black coal with fiery ember pupils. He runs a hand over his face, puffing out a strained, " _Fuck_."

Aerith hums in response.

"How'd ya do it?" he asks. Aerith looks over and sees Cid hunched into himself as he stares at the energy crackling between his fingertips.

She thinks back again to her first summoning, to her friends lying prone on the ground with blood flowing openly from massive gaping wounds, and her mouth hardens into a thin line.

"I had a lot of incentive."

 

/* ******************************************************************************************************************************************* */

 

YUFFIE, THE TIDEBRINGER

 

They make their way to Wutai, where Yuffie gains the materia that has guarded her people for decades. She doesn't quite understand the gravity of what she's done, not yet, but Aerith watches the young girl as she equips Leviathan to her bracer, a grin sneaking across her face.

Barret explains it to her later when they gather around an impromptu campfire. He holds out Ramuh delicately, as though worried she'll snatch it from him.

"Ya gotta make a contract." He finishes and she frowns.

"A contract?" She looks closer at Leviathan. "It's materia, Barret, what do I do? _Talk_ to it?" she jokes, and Cloud winces across the fire. Aerith almost laughs, but then she remembers how badly his first summoning went with Shiva.

She sees him cradle his left hand and sigh, before he plants the Buster Sword in the ground and walks to Yuffie with quick, decisive steps.

"Yuffie." he announces. Cloud removes his glove and holds out his hand for her to inspect - the skin is blackened, tinged with blue and cold to the touch.

The thief turns wary eyes on him. "A contract?" she repeats.

Barret shrugs out of his vest and pulls his tank top to the side, revealing dark skin laced with bright scars in the shape of lightning strikes. Tifa laughs from across the fire.

"Oh, we're doing this, are we?" She doesn't move though, and Aerith reasons it's because her scars are prominent enough to need no explanation. Her arms are disfigured by deep cracks and fissures of scar tissue, like the earth itself resides in her forearms.

Yuffie's quiet, engrossed in thought as she stares down at the materia. "Do I have to?" she asks in a small voice.

Red trots over and curls himself around her slim frame. "Of course not." Yuffie runs fingers through his mane, the movement stilted and awkward when she feels scar tissue around the base of his neck, the soft fur giving way to leathery skin. His eyes seem a bit more yellowed, his teeth more jagged and feral.

 

/* ******************************************************************************************************************************************* */

 

CID, THE SEER

 

 

A lance heeds his cry for help before the lightning comes - striking down into the earth beside him and heralding the arrival of a being taller than Cid could have ever imagined.

It stands there, immovable, and gazes down at Cid's stocky frame with a questioning look.

Seconds pass and their enemy takes to pouncing on Aerith, ripping out chunks of her skin. Her screams fill the air and Cid can feel heat emanating from the blood trickling from her wounds and he shouts at Odin, "Fuckin' _do_ somethin', you useless piece of rock!"

Cloud's rushing over to Aerith but the heat is becoming unbearable, too much for his ever frozen skin to handle. Odin reaches down with a hand twice the size of Cid's chest and a voice rumbles out like thunder -

" _A CONTRACT MUST BE MADE_."

Cid nearly screams his affirmation and Odin retrieves their lance with a deft pluck of their fingers, twirling it high above their head before slicing through the horde of demon dogs they faced.

More than twenty of them fall immediately, with the rest disposed of fairly soon after.

Aerith stands on shaky feet, the smell of burning blood clinging to her skin, and hobbles over to Cid.

"Thanks, Cid." she whispers, and heals the both of them.

 

  
/* ******************************************************************************************************************************************* */

 

By their journey's end, they're a motley crew of changed figures - Cloud leaves footprints laced with frost and Aerith leaves singe marks. Tifa's skin looks akin to stone. Barret's hair and beard has gone a stark white, lightning crackling at his fingertips.

Red's fur has fallen off in a few spots, the skin below leathery. He thrums with a steady power that vibrates the air around him.

Cid's eyes have gone black, the beginnings of antlers poking out from beneath his hair. Vincent's the most human out of all of them - his black hair tinted with gray and in the right light, it looks like a crown sits heavy on his brow

Yuffie has scales now, and the start of gills shaping her neck. Her eyes look glazed over, her skin cold to the touch. She doesn't smile as often.

 

When they face Sephiroth, he laughs.

"You claim power beyond your imagining for the sake of defeating me?" he crows, "You're no longer human."

Aerith steps forward, flames licking at her fingertips. "I never was." She sounds soft and calm, despite her knuckles turning white from the grip she has on her staff. Her eyes are black coals, steam billows out from her mouth as she talks.

Cloud stands next to her, close enough that the heat makes him shift uncomfortably. "You're going to die here." he whispers. Sephiroth notes how his skin is a pale blue tint, how his hair isn't upright through sheer will so much as it's frozen in place.

Sephiroth's eyes narrow at the group. "I can't die." he responds, and he lodges Masamune in Aerith's stomach.

She doesn't even flinch, her eyes traveling down to the steel embedded in her torso.

Vincent steps forward, cape fluttering lightly behind him. He places a hand on his holster, chin held high. "We aren't going to let you leave."

Sephiroth's face twists into a snarl as he steps forward, twisting the blade. Aerith remains impassive.

"You can't win." Cid calls out from Vincent's side, his clawed hands curled into fists.

Aerith steps forward, forcing the blade in further. She clasps the steel with her free hand, dragging it in as she goes. Sephiroth frowns.

He almost looks nervous.

Red growls next to Yuffie, who watches the scene neutrally. Her arms are crossed over her scaly chest, trickles of water seeping from her gills.

Aerith takes another step forward within arms reach of Sephiroth.

He balks, hand twitching on the hilt of the blade. She stares him down, her fiery eyes against his sickly green, and speaks.

"We're going to kill you." Aerith says, and Sephiroth takes a shuddering breath. "And you know it."

He shakes his head. "I can't die." He sounds uncertain.

Barret finally steps forth, incandescent rage on his features, and raises his steel arm. Amongst the floating rubble and screaming winds, dark clouds begin to coalesce in the sky above them. Red stalks closer, teeth bared.

"I can't die!" Sephiroth screams, letting go of Masamune to clasp his hands together - the barest hint of materia between them.

Tifa sees the incoming blast from the heavens before the rest, grinning widely and cracking her knuckles. Titan steps forth from the ether, bellowing at the man before them.

Sephiroth looks at his foes, watching in fear as more and more summons appear next to their human counterparts. Leviathan screeches into existence - bringing a wall of water with her that Yuffie gracefully falls back into, chakram at the ready.

Ifrit howls next to Aerith and the group closes the distance.

 

Seven bodies plummet towards the earth, summons winking out of existence one by one - save for an ocean's worth of water and a screaming serpent.

Seven bodies crash into a quickly disappearing sea, slowly making their way to the surface of Gaia.

Seven bodies sit up, take stock of their surroundings, and crack the first genuine smiles they've made in months.

 

**Author's Note:**

> leave your thoughts, r&r, comments are appreciated and highly useful in validating my shit writing <3


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